The Fellowship of the Fourth Age (Part 1): A New Beginning RPG

[Child of the 7th Age]

There was an omenous growling from Gwella's stomach as the young orc crouched behind a large rock not far from the entrance to the pit and debated what to do. In all the commotion and excitement, she had become separated from the others. Her first instinct was to turn and run as far from this spot as her powerful legs would carry her. There was something terrible happening on the outskirts of camp. The entire circle of men and women had moved from their original spot and now stood some hundred yards downstream. The horrible man creatures were shouting and shrieking and brandishing weapons. Gwella could hear moans and cries coming from the male orcs and uruks who were now completely surrounded by their attackers.

No one paid the slightest attention to a solitary female who was so good at hiding in the shadows. If Gwella had been a year or two older, she would have had enough sense to disappear into the night and never return to this awful place, ignoring the others to save her own skin. But she was young and hungry and, because of that, she hesitated. When the others had been out pillaging the night before, the men had shoved her aside from the best prizes. She had not even managed to get a decent meal in her belly. She had begged a scrap or two from the other females, but it was not enough to appease the terrible gnawing inside her stomach that was becoming worse with each passing hour.

Just as Gwella was about to give up her search for food, a small group of man creatures ambled down to the stream bed not far from where she hid. These particular specimens did not look half as bad as the others who were yelling and screaming on the outskirts of camp. None were carrying weapons. A band of small ones scurried ahead while two others followed behind, looking to be slightly larger. Perhaps, thought Gwella, these were the ones in charge. The one older woman went and sat by herself, staring stonily towards the north, but had later leapt up and ran off in the direction where the larger crowd was gathered. The other woman was still trying to keep track of the children, but doing a poor job.

Gwella was fascinated by the mischief of the little ones who seemed to enjoy more freedom and less discipline from their elders than any orc child she had known. The boys had found a rope near the pit entrance and had retied it to the grating for a makeshift swing. One by one, they climbed onto it and dangled resolutely over the mouth of the cave. Another girl quickly joined their game and, daring the others to follow her, let go of the rope and dropped down inside the actual pit. It was only a short drop from the end of the rope to the muddy floor so that it would not be difficult to crawl up to the top again.

Gwella, however, was even more encouraged by the actions of the young woman who carried a bag over her shoulder. The woman opened the satchel and set out several portions of meat and bread on top of another nearby rock. Then she stalked over to the pit entrance, stared down at the children, and said they should shinny up the rope immediately and have something to eat. Gwella's eyes widened with delight as she considered the small feast spread before her. It was more food than she had seen all night. Her stomach growled appreciatively. The woman's back was turned. Even if the whole party came back, Gwella reasoned that she could easily fend them off. She was half uruk, half orc, and considerably heavier and stronger than any of the children or even the woman. On an impulse, she sprang up and hurried over to the boulder where the bread and meat had been set out, greedily snatching up the food with one hand and using the other to stuff about half of it inside her mouth.....

[Undómë]

Zagra peeked out from behind her sister’s shoulder. Her dark eyes went wide as the little drama unfolded. In a voice ragged with fear she whispered in Mazhg’s ear. ‘Bad men! Bad men! Cut their throats!’ she pointed a trembling finger at the kneeling line of Orcs, the last of their lives balanced lightly now against the men’s blades. ‘Kill them! Find us - kill us, too!!’ Zagra’s eyes rolled wildly as she clung tightly to her sister’s arm.

‘Quiet, little beetle!’ Mazhg drew her sister in close cradling her head against her shoulder, Zagra’s eyes shielded from the soon to be bloody scene. She pulled her down into a crouch, their small forms shielded by the leafy tangle of undergrowth at the base of the rocky outcropping. Sha! she spat out, contempt for Orc males infusing her features. ‘Stupid, drunken globs!’ she muttered. Mazhg’s eyes narrowed as she considered the possibilities.

Her first urge was to sneak quietly away with Zagra as quickly as they could. Light out on their own. Her head nodded at this answer. ‘Get away from these males,’ she reasoned to herself. ‘Man and Orc. Always trouble.’ She looked at Zagra, wondering how long the two of them would last on their own. Mazhg’s hand tightened on the haft of the sharp spade, her weapon a comforting feel in her small fist. Aside from that was just the little knife tucked in the waistband of her breeches. With a sigh she turned her mind away from thoughts of flight. Much as she disliked it, she and her sister would be safer traveling with a group.

But what could she do? Rush at the men with her spade? Foolish! Who would care for Zagra if . . . no, when she was killed. A distraction, maybe. And one leaving her and her sister enough time to run. That might work. If the dung-brained males would take advantage of it and run themselves.

‘Zagra!’ she hissed, giving her sister a little shake to focus her attention away from the fear. ‘See those biggish rocks there . . . on the ground by the bigger rock.’ She tipped her head, drawing Zagra’s gaze toward the stones. ‘Pick up a bunch.’ Mazhg gathered up the front of her tunic, indicating Zagra should do the same – use it like a little basket for the rocks. ‘Remember how we used to keep the crows from the fields? Remember how good your arm was. You always beat me . . . remember?’ Zagra’s mouth curved up in a smile, her simple thoughts relishing that recalled game. ‘We’ll throw them toward the men. Make ‘em drop their blades away from the males. Throw ‘em fast, and hard. Hurt the men just enough to make them squawk. Maybe that Ishkur isn’t so stupid and can figure out he needs to run. And then we run, too, Zagra . . . fast, fast!’

The two sisters crept as close as they could to the execution site, keeping a fair distance still for their own escape. With a nod to Zagra, Mazhg stood up, indicating her sister should do so, too. Her hands occupied, Mazhg’s spade lay on the ground behind her. Her arm drew back, making ready to let the first rock fly.

Crack . . . A twig snapped somewhere close behind them. A strong hand clasped her tunic tight about her neck. Wriggling wildly, she could see her sister pinned in a similar manner. Mazhg tried to reach down toward her spade, but the man’s boot was planted firmly on it. Eyes blazing, she glared at their captor, half wondering why he hadn’t simply killed them. For her part, Zagra was kicking furiously at the man’s nearer leg, a few hearty blows finding their target.

‘Nice plan! But I don’t think it would work. You’d all be dead at their hands, I think.’ He hauled them down, his grip still firm on them. ‘Now listen . . .’

[Tevildo]

Azhar stared down into the pit and waited until the one of the boys walked over to the rope and began to climb up. She could see his feet and legs were wet. Azhar sighed but couldn't bring herself to scold the first girl who had encouraged them to drop down into the water. The children had been so excited in those early days when they'd left the plantation, but since then had found little time to play. Azhar stepped away from the mouth of the cave and started back to the rock where she had set out the food. But she got no further than two steps. Immediately, she stopped, her mouth and eyes wide open in shock as she took in the young orc who stood stuffing food into his mouth. Fighting to keep her panic down, she glanced back towards the pit and in a stern voice ordered the children to stay exactly where they were.

Azhar's immediate thought was to look for a weapon to defend herself. Before she could actually do that, the young thief stuffed another handful of bread and meat into his mouth and began to dart off. With a shock Azhar realized the boy was no older than herself. She had seen the look in his eye many times before.....a child so hungry that he or she would do anything to swipe or beg a little food. Instantly she felt ashamed. The orc gave no sign that he was going to attack. She was no better than the ones down the river who had voted to execute the intruders even though they had done them no harm. "It's alright, boy" she called out. "I have more in my bag. Plenty more. There's enough for us all." I must be crazy, Azhar thought. If only Athwen was here, she'd know exactly what to do.

Gwella stared at the young woman who was approaching, not sure whether she should leave or stay. The girl did not look like much of a threat, and she was still very hungry. She stood unmoving on the plain. Not more than ten feet separated the two figures. Finally, the orc snapped back, "I'm no boy! I'm a girl. My name is Gwella. Throw that stuff over here if you mean it." Gwella imperiously jerked her thumb towards the canvas bag.

Azhar stood in absolute shock. A girl? She never would have guessed it from her looks. But what shocked her more was that this creature had a name. Somehow she had never imagined orcs having real names. Azhar wondered who had given her a name. Then she took three steps over to the pouch and drew out a small loaf of bread and tossed it towards Gwella. The orc did not step forward but neither did she run away. Gwella bent down, snatched the loaf, and began to gnaw at the end, still glaring suspiciously at the other woman.

Azhar was wondering what she should do next when something happened that put the orc out of her mind. A sharp childish voice filled with panic sounded from the bottom of the pit: "Help! Help! The rock moved. Ina's trapped. There's water....lots of water..." A tangle of childish voices and cries was followed by a deadly silence. Meanwhile, up the river some hundred feet, the meeting continued, with no one even aware of what was happening at the entrance to the cave.

[Folwren]

Athwen, sitting on the opposite side of the hill, heard the disturbance in the executions. She had not meant to listen. She didn’t want to hear, but she couldn’t help it and her ears latched onto every sound. Finally, with a quiet word to Azhar to keep an eye on the children, she stood up and hurried in the direction of the execution.

A strange sight met her eyes as she came around the rise of ground. There were the orcs, lined up and ready to die, but not yet killed, and behind each of them stood the one who thought it a privilege to kill them. But before this neatly formed line knelt two new figures, unbound, unrestrained. Athwen’s feet slowed as she stared in wonder, and then, seeing that something odd was truly afoot, she sped up and hurried down the slope in time to hear the first orc’s plea.

“We’re on the run like you are… we’re alone in this cursed land and afraid like you are… we just want to get out from the plantations and to live in freedom, as I believe you did.”

Athwen drew in a sharp breath between her teeth. She had been right after all. Against all odds, her guess, her plea in defense of the captives had been the nearest to accuracy. She stood back away from the other group of ex-slaves and listened as the two female orcs unfolded their story.

As the second one finished speaking, Athwen saw first the child that she referred to. He still hung by the cloth of his collar from Qat’s hand. Her eyes grew a little wider as she looked at him. He was just a child! It was obvious that he was just a child – and yet he was being treated abhorrently. Not even a young wild animal would be handled so. She felt disgusted, and the loathing that had risen in her earlier came back.

At that moment, while Ungolt made her last plea, there came a faint cry from the direction of the children. Athwen stood farthest back of all the people there, and she may have been the only one to hear. She turned about abruptly and looking back the way she had come. What was going on?

Then she heard it more clearly, the cry for help. Her heart gave a small leap and her breath caught momentarily and she instantly began to run back.

[piosenniel]

The verdict the others had reached sickened him. He’d followed the group out of camp, hoping that there would be a change of heart somehow. Change of heart! Wishful thinking. Pride drove men's hearts more than compassion.

Guilt drove a greater portion of his thoughts. He never was much of a speaker and he hadn’t spoken up when the judgment had been made....as he should have, he knew. And the fact that he still hadn’t felt well, that his mind was still a little muddled, did nothing to assuage his feelings of complicity. I could step in..... he supposed. But what would that accomplish? I’d be cold-shouldered at best for the rest of this expedition, or thrown out of this traveling fellowship altogether, at worst. Perhaps he should return home, he thought, as he’d turned away from the execution site.

So, you're as full of self-pride as those you would accuse, eh? he chided himself sharply.

Rôg’s wanderings had taken him a space away from the camp and the killing grounds. His thoughts his main company as he struggled with what he could, he should, he might do. The buzz of husky voices drew his attention outwards, as he walked along the periphery of the site where the men prepared to kill the captives. He stepped nearer, focusing hard on what was being said.

Foolish boys! he growled to himself as he heard the one’s plan unfold. Two disheveled looking youngsters were preparing to escalate the events with rocks..... Rocks!!! Good intention.....brave, even, but in the end they would be killed, too. Rôg shook his head. He’d done nothing before, perhaps he could do something now. Think, man!!!

Intent on reaching the two before the first stone was hurled, he trod unawares on a dried twig. The two young males startled, dropping their rocks. Rôg moved in quickly, grabbing them by the necks of their tunics. They twisted madly in his grip like little wildcats, one of them landing a few hard blows against his shins with her frenzied kicks. He hauled them down, in a crouch, hissing himself at them to be quiet and listen.

‘Nice plan!’ he began, offering as friendly a look as he could toward the two. ‘But I don’t think it would work. You’d all be dead at their hands, I think.’ He hauled them down, his grip still firm on them. ‘Now listen . . .’

With a few quick whisperings he laid out his scarcely thought out idea. It was a slim chance it might work, and he could see the one boy, the one who’d done most of the talking, thought so as well. But, too, there came a calculating gleam to the fellow’s eye as Rôg rambled on with his reasonings. In the end there was forged an agreement, if a grudging one at best. Rôg released his grip on the two, hoping not to be soundly whacked in the head by the perilous looking spade now held firmly in the grasp of the one young lad.

‘Right then,’ Rôg said, preparing to stand up. He unfastened his belt, indicating the fellow should secure his hands, so that Rôg would appear to have been captured and bound. The trio stood up and advanced a little ways toward the men and Orcs.

Mazhg held one of Rôg’s arms and threatened him with her knife held against his side. Zagra held his other arm, brandishing the spade as they drew nearer to the site. For his part, Rôg stumbled along as if beaten, and indeed his breeches’ leg was torn and the leg bled where he’d been so soundly kicked at first. They stopped short of entering the execution place itself. Mazhg shook Rôg hard, pushing him to his knees. She glared at the men holding the male Orcs, and nudged Rôg hard on his shoulder, pricking him a little with her knife.

With what he hoped might pass for a grimace of pain, Rôg looked beseechingly toward the men and in as beleaguered a voice as he could manage he spoke.

‘They’ll trade me for those Orcs you’ve got,’ he began. ‘They only want us to leave them be to find their own place to settle. That’s all they’re asking.’ His plea hung in the air between the two groups.

Great Winged One! he appealed in silence. Don’t let them think I’m just another expendable soul like the Orcs.....

[Undómë]

Zagra’s grip on the strange man faltered as her attention wandered. She was nervous and getting more so, standing out here so exposed. And there was too much to remember . . . keep her face grim, mean-looking, Mazhg had told her. Hold up the spade as if she would wallop him should he move too much. Keep your eyes on those men. And remember to sneak looks at Mazhg. ‘If you see me rub my cheek,’ Mazhg had said, ‘then get ready to run. And when I yell “run”, you light on out of here. Quick as if the Dark Lord himself is at your heels. Run and run and hide where we did beyond the bend in the stream . . . like we did that once. You remember, right?’ Mazhg had made her repeat the instructions and the landmarks for the hiding place. ‘I’ll come for you . . . soon’s I can. You stay hid.’

She felt Rôg’s shoulder twitch slightly, reminding her to keep contact. Her eyes flicked toward Mazhg. Her sister’s eyes were on the men and Orcs.

Mazhg called out to the captive males in a loud voice, the harsh, guttural sounds of Orkish tongue breaking the tense silence.

‘Sha! You big, dumb, snagas! Getting caught!’ She stopped herself, biting back the string of epithets ready to tumble off her tongue. She spit in the dirt for final emphasis. ‘Don’t mess this up, globs-bubhosh!

[Child of the 7th Age]

Gwella followed behind Azhar as the girl stumbled over to the entrance of the pit and stared down into the hole. With the shifting of the largest rock, the water had broken through and was now flooding the interior of the cave. Gwella could not see very much but she could hear the sound of swirling water and desperate splashing noises made by small hands and legs as five children struggled to keep their heads afloat.

"Stupid, stupid," the orc girl growled. "Rain comes. Caves flood. Rocks move. Even chicken-brains know that. " Azhar did not reply but latched onto the rope that still hung limply from the grating and was about to lower herself into the pit. Gwella growled again and shook her head, yanking the rope from Azhar's hands. "No.... You help me. Don't like water but I do it. Then your bag is mine.' Gwella pointed toward the satchel still bulging with food. It was also evident from the orc girl's disdainful tone that the she did not think much of Azhar's slight frame or lack of real muscles. With a single leap, Gwella propelled herself onto the rope and shinnied down inside the pit. She landed with a large thud and splash as the weight of her body caused the rope to come loose from the grating and spiral downward into the water.